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Pain, the sound of difficult breathing . . . People whispering or talking in low voices; my Mother was nearing the end. I took several pictures, and now, three days later, I see how tired she was. I realized she would not want the world to see her like that. So I cropped the photo way down to one hundredth of the original image to show, among the clutter, the symbol of her marriage to my father that began in 1941. Mom died at home Friday, January 7.
Leica M6, Summicron 35mm f2, Fuji 800